The Two Pickpockets
by Acy Yua
Summary: Jack is just a simple pickpocket from a small provincial town, but he's got dreams of one day being the best thief in the world. [OneShot]


**I.**

The streets of the Capital _were_ paved with gold! In all his twenty-two years, Jack had never seen so many riches just lying out in plain sight, begging to be picked up. His hands began to itch. He had made the right decision – oh yes, he had. Give him a year – no, six months, he would be the richest man in Tale.

He walked unnoticed among the upper crust of society. Dressed as he was in laborer's clothing, he looked no different from the hundreds of other street sweepers who plied their trade daily along the city cobblestones. As he ambled along, his mind spun with plans behind a placid expression. To think that he had waited so long to leave Mariton, though he would always think fondly of the town which had first opened his eyes to his talents.

As Jack weaved through the crowds, a harried businessman shoved past him with enough force to send Jack spinning towards the wall. He frowned at the man's back as the gentleman hurried away. In his rush, the chap had not even spared a glance at him. That certainly wouldn't have happened back in Mariton. The people there may not have been as rich but they at least could afford manners.

His temper cooled as fast as it heated. Ah well, Jack shrugged, that man may have gotten away with a bit of pushiness but he… Jack flexed his fingers against the warmed leather… he had gotten the man's pocketbook. He supposed that as a former dweller of Mariton, he should have thanked him.

* * *

**II.**

Jack flipped open his gold pocket watch and glanced at the time before strutting down Main Street swinging his cane arrogantly. Ah, life was good. Six months to the day and he had already made himself a sizeable fortune through pilfered goods. No longer was he dressed in the rags of a common laborer – he was now turned out to the nines with a smart jacket, perfectly pressed shirt, form-fitting trousers and gleaming high boots. For all intents and purposes, he was a gentleman. And the irony was, the more he stole, the less they would suspect him of stealing.

Deciding that it was a day for celebration, he resolved to hold off from picking pockets until tomorrow and live up the life he could now afford. He smirked across the street at the sight of a fellow tradesman facing the wrath of a Capital Guard. Jack would never have been so careless as to have tripped in an attempt to get away. Snatch and run – how novice-like. Jack himself was far more skilled in his craft. Blending into the crowd was his method of hiding his tracks.

As his mind turned towards more pleasant thoughts, such as at which fine restaurant he should dine for lunch, he almost did not notice the pretty young girl who brushed by him. She gave him shy smile and murmured an apology. He accepted her words absently and ambled along. A few steps later, he stuck his hand into coat.

His pocketbook was gone.

He spun around and at once spotted the girl making her way innocently down the street. Perhaps not so innocent after all. Regaining his composure, he glanced again at his watch. He could spare the time. Stealthily, he followed the girl until she slipped off to a deserted side street. Once away from the prying eyes of the crowds, he snagged the girl's wrist and twirled her to face him.

"Going somewhere, my pretty thief?" he asked sweetly.

Her face was all innocent confusion and guileless alarm. "Please, don't hurt me, sir. I don't know what you're talking about."

Her pleads were so convincing that for a moment, he almost believed her. As his arm brushed across her waist though, all doubt vanished. He had felt the definite shape of his pocketbook tucked into her sash and, if he was not mistaken, a few other valuables hidden there as well. This girl was a master.

"Perhaps I'm mistaken," he said smoothly, releasing her hand but still keeping her close, "I'm sorry for frightening you. My pocketbook has gone missing and was hoping you could assist me in finding it."

Fear melted into concern as she feigned worry for his lost possessions. "Of course I would help if I could but I'm sorry, sir, but I haven't seen anything that could be of use to you."

"Is that so?" he murmured, suddenly struck by the brilliance of her eyes, their clarity and luminance. "Well, I'm very sorry for wrongly accusing you. Is there some way that I could make it up to you?"

That she had yet to pull away was a sign that she wasn't completely unaffected by him either. "No sir, that's not necessary." Her voice was slightly breathless.

"Well, I must not detain you further. I hope we meet again Miss…"

"…Smythe," she replied hesitantly. Her eyes never left his as he caught up her hand again, gently this time, and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

"Farewell, Miss Smythe." As he turned to leave, he spotted a triumphant flash in those bright eyes. She thought she'd won. He hid his smile as he strode away, tucking his pocketbook securely back into this coat. If he hurried, he could make it to the Gingerbread House for the lunch special.

He slipped his hand into his other pocket to pull out his gold watch and closed a fist onto empty air. He twisted his head back just in time to catch a coy smile thrown over the slender shoulder as she disappeared around the corner. When surprise had faded, a grin dawned on his face. She had known that he knew.

He wasted no time in trotting after her. Damned if he didn't get her as a partner!

* * *

**III.**

"Congratulations, sir! It's beautiful baby boy!" cried the midwife as she presented Jack with his firstborn. Reverently, he took the squirming bundle and held it to his heart. His hands were no less sure with this precious package than they were with any diamond necklace or enamel snuff box. He looked up from his son to smile at his exhausted wife.

He kissed her damp brow and whispered in her ear, "The heir to our empire."

In the two years since they had first met, Jack and Meg had deftly lightened the pockets of half the Capital's population with none the wiser for their schemes. Together, they had become the best pickpockets in the Capital, perhaps even Tale. The partnership had supplied more than just another pair of hands and a chance to pool their skills, it had provided companionship in the lonely world of thieves and the two were better off for it. One year of making a living and facing danger together had deepened the friendship into love, and marriage quickly followed. With their amassed wealth, their ambition now was to breed a race of the best pickpockets in the world.

Gazing down at their first child, they were overwhelmed with emotion. He would be the first to whom they would pass on their legacy. Said heir let out a lusty wail.

While the child fed, Jack lazily peeked at his son's hands, the tools of his future trade. As he unwrapped the child's right arm, he was alarmed to find it stiff against the little chest, the hand clenched in a tight fist. Slightly trepid, he attempted to straighten the arm but nothing he did could entice the child to move it.

Fear was immediate and sleep elusive for the new parents. With a paralyzed right arm, he could never be a pickpocket! The next morning, they called in the doctor to examine the child but the only thing the man said for their pains was that the boy was too young and they would have to wait.

Wait? Empires were not built by waiting. Impatient to heal their son, they called in doctor after doctor after doctor. All said the same thing.

At last, the two sought out the best child specialist in the Capital. Their wealth had gained them an appointment with the royal pediatrician himself. The specialist took out his gold watch and felt the pulse on the paralyzed right arm. So great was the parents' distress that the piece failed to stir any avarice in either of them.

"The pulse seems strong," the doctor said reassuringly, "And there appears to be normal blood flow. What a bright little fellow he is for his age. Look at how he's focusing on my watch."

He took the chain out of his waistcoat and gently swung the watch to and fro. He smiled as those intelligent little eyes followed the motion. Suddenly, the little bent arm straightened towards the watch and the clenched fingers opened to take it.

Then, out from his hand, dropped the midwife's gold wedding ring.

* * *

Author's Note: This was a rewrite of a short English fairy tale. My favorite part of the story was the ending. Trying to give it a more 'novelized feel' meant I had to break down the story into scenes. Since this particular tale wouldn't work as a longer story (the surprise element is gone), I decided to try and turn the one story into three little stories with each section having it's own 'surprise ending'. Tell me how you think I did. I welcome all questions, comments and criticisms. If you're up for a longer story, check out my Cinderella Hunt.


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